“He’s in the first hangar.” Eli pointed the large metal building out. “He has his own private jet and makes full use of it. Family money and all that shit.”
“As I said, ain’t he just special,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “Is this meeting going to take long?”
The boss’s boss actually sounded like he’d be fun as hell to torment for a minute. Did he have a sense of humor?
Well, Eli was still alive, so he had to have a sense of humor, she thought in amusement. Even she considered shooting him once a week. He could be just that infuriating.
“It shouldn’t take long. I just have to pass along some stuff Graham sent, find excuses not to accompany him on whatever harebrained op he’s decided he needs me for, and then we’ll be on our way.”
She didn’t believe him. It was that edge of resignation in his voice. The sound of a man who knows better than the explanation he was trying to force-feed her.
“Twenty minutes max,” he promised.
“Hmm. I’ll time you.” Following him to the entrance of the hangar, Zoey drew the cycle to a stop beside Eli’s and cut the engine.
Releasing her helmet, she removed it and hung it on the sissy bar behind her before shrugging the light leather jacket from her shoulders and laying it over the back of the seat.
“I promise, I won’t be long.” Helmet removed, his own jacket slung over the back of his bike, Eli watched her with a hint of discomfort now.
He so was not looking forward to this. It was almost amusing the way the big boss could intimidate him far better than her brother, Dawg, could.
“Go,” she laughed, waving her fingers toward the jet parked in the hangar. “I’ll wait, no matter how long. You can buy me a greasy cheeseburger later for my trouble.”
He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips, before striding to the steps leading into the private jet. “Those cheeseburgers will kill you, Zoe-Zoe.”
“Not before I kill you for calling me all those damned sissy names,” she warned him, though her gaze was on the jet.
Nice jet too, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Dismounting the bike, she stood staring around the valley, stretching her legs for a minute before sitting crossways on the comfortable seat and straightening the small chains and charms that dangled from the zipper tabs of her boots.
She hated waiting. She wasn’t the patient type unless she was hunting. She’d enjoyed that. Unfortunately Natches had ended the hunting lessons rather abruptly no more than a few months after they’d begun.
When he’d informed her they weren’t going hunting anymore, she arched her brow, anger pulsing through her. “Afraid I’ll get good at it?” she’d charged him.
Natches shook his head. “No, little sister,” he sighed. “Afraid you’ll get too good at it.”
Hell, that was years ago. What had made her think about that?
Waiting, probably, she thought with a snort.
As much as she thought of Elijah, when the twenty minutes passed, she could feel herself becoming frustrated. She could feel herself beginning to think of things better left alone. That was why she hated waiting. She’d only gotten worse in the past year.
“It was a nightmare, Zoey.”
“Always remember, you killed me, Zoey . . .”
“I’m Natches’s heir . . . Natches will kill you . . .”
Natches’s heir. Harley was a hunter; he talked about it all the time. Hunting and guns and Natches’s new best hunting buddy? Well, that made sense, didn’t it? As a former Marine sniper Natches would want an heir to teach what he knew, and his adopted son, Declan, had a tendency to laugh if someone suggested he go hunting with Natches.
Harley and Natches had been great hunting buddies, though.
“. . . I’m Natches’s heir . . .” the voice of a nightmare whispered through her head.
“. . . don’t forget you killed me, Zoey . . .” Harley demanded in those bloody images, demanding she remember.
Jumping from the seat of the motorcycle, she paced several feet from it, searching the area frantically for something to concentrate on, something besides a nightmare she just wanted to forget.
“Damn, Eli, is it going to take you all friggin’ evening?” she snapped into the silence of the valley. “Let’s hurry already.”
“You could have come in with him.”
Zoey swung around at the sound of the brooding tone, rife with amused mockery.
Her brows arched and she allowed a small smile to threaten the corners of her lips. Now, didn’t he just look rather fun?
“Zoey Mackay?” A single dark brow arched, interest gleaming in his dark, chocolate-brown eyes.
He stood almost lazily next to the front wheel of her cycle, hands tucked into his black slacks, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled several cuff widths up his tanned, light-haired forearms, his longish, dark brown hair framing aristocratic, damned imposing features.
“And you are?” she asked warily, though she had a good idea who he was. The boss’s boss. It was damned funny how even Eli refused to use his name. Like some kind of talisman that could hold him at bay.
He did look kind of dangerous, though, in a very aristocratic sort of way. In a very arrogant lord-of-all-he-surveyed way. And she had to admit, it was a damned arousing look.
She liked it.
A little too much perhaps.
Her eyes narrowed then. It had been years. Five years, to be precise. He was harder, his face sharper, his expression colder. But it was him.
She’d danced with him one sultry summer night, certain he’d kiss her once the dance was over. Instead, he stepped back, ran his finger from her temple to her jaw in a gentle curve, before turning and just walking away.
But did he know who she was? He didn’t appear to recognize her, and it had been five years after all. Perhaps she hadn’t made the same impression on him.
His lips quirked. “Who did Eli tell you he was meeting?”
Propping one hand on a leather-clad hip, she slid her gaze to the plane, then back to his amused features.
“His boss’s boss.” She wrinkled her nose with a hint of disdain. “Be careful of him, he tends to get his agents shot at, you know.”
Casually, ensuring that the move appeared natural, Zoey lifted her jacket from the seat of the cycle and pulled it on once again. “Hopefully he doesn’t get Eli shot at before we leave. I’m certain I have things to do tonight.”
“Really?” The interest deepened in his eyes now. “Perhaps you can give him a few more minutes while you explain how you know so much about his boss?”
Lifting one arm, she checked her nails for a moment before lowering it once again and directing her attention back to him.
“I’m a Mackay, we tend to know these things. Instinct perhaps.” She shrugged as though no more interested in the conversation than she was in the grass growing in the fields surrounding the airfield. “Think the boss’s boss will be done with him soon?”
He turned and gave the plane a long look before turning back to her. “I don’t quite think he’s finished yet. You could come up with him if you like.”
Uh-oh. That did not sound promising. For Eli at least.
“What’s he doing?”
“A hundred push-ups for bringing a civilian along,” he answered far too seriously. “And if I don’t get back, he’ll cheat on the count. There’s cold drinks in the plane if you decide to join us.”
“I assume you’re the boss’s boss, then?” she queried, knowing he was. “A name would be nice. Even my sister won’t provide the name of the man who dared to invite her out to dinner while my brother-in-law was still trying to seduce her. I believe they consider saying your name bad luck. Rather like Rumpelstiltskin perhaps?”
She wondered if she should just tell him she knew who he was and how much she appreciated him taking her sister out. That was enough to piss her off.
That little twitch at the corner of his lips hinted at a smile of sincere amusemen
t.
“Come along.” As he angled his head to the aircraft, his gaze turned mocking again. “Eli can introduce us properly since he convinced you to come along with him.”
“I just followed him,” she retorted, grinning at his back now. “He does live with me, you know. And I was bored tonight.”
“Get bored often, do you?”
Damn, she wished she could see his face when he asked that question.
“Only on Fridays,” she assured him, wondering if the odd look he gave her was an indication that for her, every day was Friday these days.
“Today’s only Thursday.” Still, he didn’t deign to let her see his expression.
“Oh well. I guess I started a day early, then. My bad.”
She had a feeling she could have fun with this man. It might have had something to do with the little glimpse she caught of a grin he was trying to hide when she nearly caught up with him. Or the fact that he had a helluva backside.
“You’re bad? Sweetheart, with the name Mackay, there wasn’t even a doubt.” He stopped at the steps leading up to the interior of the jet.
She took the first step, then paused and faced him. With the three-inch boot heels and the height of the step, she could stare him in the eye, and she liked that.
It put her close enough to catch the scent of his cologne, a bit of sandalwood, she thought. A very masculine, very intriguing scent that made her want to get closer.
A whole lot closer.
“Well then, at least you’ve been warned,” she pointed out, lowering her voice and giving him a sultry look. “I, on the other hand, am still in the dark. Should I be warned as well?”
His hand lifted just enough to allow his index finger to insert itself under the sleeve of her jacket, where it then stroked over her wrist. A rasp of a callused fingertip against the sensitive flesh had the blood pounding harder through her veins.
“Oh God, Zoey, don’t flirt with him.” Eli barked the demand from the open door of the plane, horrified astonishment filling his voice. “I warned you what he was like. Do you really want to become a notch on his belt?”
“How very chauvinistic of you, Eli,” she accused him lightly. “Maybe I’m thinking about making him a notch in my belt?”
Surprise gleamed in his brown eyes as well as a glimmer of laughter.
“You’re crazy. Get away from him,” Eli all but begged her. “He’s like a damned plague where women are concerned. You never recover.”
The boss’s lips thinned, but she could see the grin he wanted to let free. Zoey leaned forward just a few inches and let a smile curve her own lips. “Why fight it? You know you want to.”
His eyes flicked to her lips then back to meet her gaze.
“Oh, Miss Mackay, there are many things I’d love to do, but exactly to what are you referring?” Carnal, white-hot lust gleamed in his eyes now.
“The smile you’re fighting.” Stepping back, she gave a toss of her head and moved up the steps. “I bet you look really nice when you smile.”
“He looks like an ogre when he smiles. All cracked, broken teeth and evil breath.” Eli was waiting, arms crossed over his chest, his expression forbidding. “You never listen to me, do you?”
She couldn’t help but laugh as she neared him.
“Only when you say something I want to hear.” She reached up and patted his cheek fondly as she passed him. “So stop fussing. I’m just playing a little bit.”
“With an alligator,” he snapped. “Or a shark. You should know better.”
“You’re fired, Eli.” The boss stepped in behind her obviously, his tone rich and deep, without a hint of amusement. He wasn’t serious, though. She knew he wasn’t serious.
Turning, she caught Eli’s disapproving look as he glared at the other man. “Bullshit. Dammit, Doogan, stop firing my ass. You know our dads will just make you hire me back anyway, so why bother?”
“Because you irritate me.” Doogan shrugged, turning to Zoey now. “He thinks because our fathers are best friends that I can’t fire him. He’s wrong.”
“Suits me fine. Zoey already has a job lined up for me anyway,” he shot back, his look daring her to reveal the nature of that job. “I won’t have to worry about you getting me shot at.”
“What kind of job might that be? Mackay jester?” Doogan snorted, though the barest hint of a wink as he passed her belied the seriousness of his tone.
“I really don’t like you, Doogan.” Eli was almost serious.
That was too funny. Eli didn’t actually dislike anyone, but he obviously had a few issues with Doogan. She had a feeling that complications likely filled their relationship.
“He’s annoyed with me right now.” Doogan sat in the executive-style chair positioned behind a work area and facing the front of the plane. “He’ll like me better once he doesn’t get shot at this time before he gets back.”
Now, that one gave her pause.
Zoey gave Eli a frown. “Before he gets back?” She turned the same frown on Doogan. “That’s not going to work. I have to get back to Somerset before Dawg realizes I’ve disappeared.”
Doogan lowered his head, his gaze on the open laptop, though she doubted his attention was there. He seemed to be choosing his words instead.
“You know the way back, I presume?” Doogan inquired then, his head lifting, his gaze locking with hers. “I didn’t ask Eli if he cared to do it, I ordered him to do it.”
“Go back by myself?” she asked, as though amazed he would make such a suggestion. “But I’m a Mackay. I’ll end up in trouble before I’m halfway there and God forbid I should get a bruise and tell Dawg you sent me home alone.” Her eyes widened, a pretense of sudden, fearful knowledge filling her expression. “I’d hate to see what happened then. He’d come looking for you, though.”
Doogan’s eyes locked on hers. “Then I guess you better stay right here until Eli gets back. It would be terrible if you caused your brother to end up . . . hurting himself. . . .” That wicked smile he flashed her was completely misbegotten. He didn’t care in the least to stir up a little trouble, now did he?
Eli groaned, a defeated, painful sound.
“Eli. Go.” Doogan’s voice changed. It wasn’t holding that playful little undercurrent any longer. He was dead serious.
Eli groaned again. “There goes my chance,” he sighed.
“Your chance at what?” Doogan’s tone deepened at the grin Zoey couldn’t hold back.
Her gaze slid to Eli’s, daring him.
“Living,” Eli grunted.
A second later he left the plane, stomping down the steps like a two-year-old in temper. Though, admittedly, Zoey wondered if perhaps she should be a little worried herself.
“Sending him away really wasn’t nice,” she sighed. “He’s terrified of your little side projects.”
“Which is why he brought you. I’m no fool, Ms. Mackay,” he told her with a softness that belied the steel beneath it. “Eli likes to think he can fool me sometimes. He doesn’t.”
There was more than a handsome playboy that existed beneath that implacable expression, she guessed. And far more than just the boss’s boss.
“And I needed to know this why?” Crossing her arms over her breasts, she glared down at him, though she had a feeling if push came to shove, this man could steamroll right over her if she gave him half a chance.
The look he gave her was one of knowing exasperation.
“Have a seat, sweetheart.” He indicated the chair in front of his desk. “Eli will be a few hours at least. You may as well make yourself comfortable.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “I know my way home. I’m sure I can stay out of trouble that long.”
Hooking her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, Zoey tried to tell herself she could walk out anytime she wanted to and just ride home. No big deal. So why was she standing there? Why was she letting him hold her gaze, capture her senses?
“I’m certain you do, Zoey,” he stated softly
. “And I see the suspicion in your eyes. You can trust me, you know.”
Uh-huh. Trust wasn’t something she gave easily. It was even harder to attain with her than friendship was.
Turning away from him, Zoey stepped to the long couch behind the chair he’d motioned her to sit in and plopped onto the exquisitely comfortable leather seat.
“Trust you, can I?” she sighed. “And what would make me think I could? A single dance six years ago?”
Something shadowed his eyes then. Something dark, something hungry. It caused her heart to beat faster, a heat she’d only felt once before, to begin building inside her.
“We could start with that,” he murmured.
It was about a year too late, she told herself morosely. If he’d shown up a year ago with that suggestion she might have had the option of considering it. She couldn’t take that chance now.
“Nice plane.” She grappled for a change of subject. “Yours or your agency’s?” she asked, running her hand over the supple leather.
“Mine.” The laptop closed and he relaxed his chest, regarding her with open, sexual interest.
“Hmm. Should I bow?”
His lips quirked. “It might be rather hard in that leather, but you can try.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do in leather,” she murmured, the wordplay more exciting than she’d ever known it to be.
Zoey liked to flirt; she liked pitting her wits against the so-called charmers who thought they could talk their way into her bed. This was more than just flirting, though. It was more than pitting her wits against a man she had no intentions of taking to her bed. This was a man she just might have considered giving her heart to at another time.
Maybe.
She crossed one leg over the other and relaxed into the giving cushions behind her. “I could have gone with Eli.”
“You could have,” he agreed with a short inclination of his head. “If I were certain of your ability to convince a bar full of bikers that you’ve seduced their favorite female lone wolf.”
She grinned at that, reached up and removed the bobby pin from the tail of her braid, and let it fall over her shoulder. “I could totally do that,” she assured him with a little wrinkle of her nose. “I have mad seduction skills, you know? All from watching Sam Bryce in action.”